


the cure for a common cold

by honeyteeth



Series: a fool's game [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Heartfelt Talks, M/M, Sickfic, au where the devil's nest raid Didn't Happen, dolcetto remembers his days back in the 5th lab, i love domestic fics so much fuck, love is stored in the devil's nest, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 08:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18465676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyteeth/pseuds/honeyteeth
Summary: Dolcetto is expecting Greed to laugh at him when he falls ill but is met with an unlikely surprise. He's never seen this side of his boss before; it's almost scary how kind Greed can be.





	the cure for a common cold

**Author's Note:**

> tryna improve my writing by Continuing to Write. that's how it works, isn't it?  
> anyway i have a project due tomorrow that i've been putting off all week so now im fucked :( oh well it's still only morning

Stubbornness is something that Dolcetto, the steadfast bouncer for a bar called the Devil’s Nest, prides himself in greatly. Never budging, never flinching, he guards the entrance of the dingy building like a good dog should. Rightfully so, he is rewarded with a place to stay, weekly paychecks, and some pretty damn good friends. 

However, he doesn’t seem to understand that while being obstinate may benefit him in the workplace, it’s a rather fickle thing in every-day life. For example: right now. 

Dolcetto knew there would be consequences. He knew that, in this weather, his joints would lock up if they got too cold or were exposed to too much moisture. The forecast on the radio had warned everyone about the terrible storm coming Dublith’s way. About the icy cold sheets of rain that would cascade onto the cobblestone streets and make the earth soppy and difficult to walk in. About the roaring thunder and crashes of lightning. Bring an umbrella, said the good newscaster. Get home early, avoid telephone poles lest you get fried, hunker down, today will be pretty rough so stay safe out there, folks! God, if only Dolcetto had listened. If only his dumb mule-like mindset had allowed him to at least bring an umbrella; he was currently soaked through, down to the bone, and still about fifteen minutes away from the Nest. Fuck, he sure was stupid. At least he had done what Boss had asked of him: order a new set of glasses for the bar. Ulchi, in one of his drunken, blind rampages, had just gone apeshit and smashed a bunch of shot glasses, wine glasses, beer glasses-- you name it, he broke it. It was really quite messy and ended with the big, tough, burly gator chimera sobbing about how sorry he was as his knuckles bled rivers from all of the. Well. Glass. In the end, Roa (the medical master of the gang), had bandaged the man’s hands and told him to take it easy for a few days. He even said that Ulchi needed to lay back on the alcohol, which would be incredibly difficult for him, but it would keep him, and everybody else, safe. 

 

Dolcetto is beyond grateful when he stumbles through the back of the dingy, neon-lit building, shoving open the half-stuck door-- which was swollen in its frame from the excess moisture in the air-- and crashing inside, deeply appreciative of the heater that was running noisily throughout the entire joint. He shivers in the doorway for a moment, taking in the familiar scents of cigarettes and sex and alcohol. He remembers, with some fondness, the first time he had entered the building, when he was asked by his boss, Greed, to work under him. He had just been broken out of Laboratory 5 and was new to the whole chimera thing. Due to his whole “mixed-with-a-dog” situation, his senses were heightened to an almost painful degree, and the stench and lighting and general atmosphere of the Devil’s Nest had given him several panic attacks. However, now, he saw the place as a home, all cozy and familiar and full of people he loved and trusted with his life. 

A particularly violent crash of thunder made the bouncer jump where he stood. Ah, there’s the other thing about being part dog. Dolcetto shook himself out of his thoughts, considering shaking himself in real life too, to get the water off. However, the air pressure is beginning to give him a headache and all he really wants is to lie down on his squeaky mattress and cuddle up in his thin sheets and sleep for a billion years. So, he decides, he’s going to do just that. Curling his arms around his body for some extra warmth, he takes shaky steps through the main entrance hallway, deciding to ignore the trail of puddles that he leaves in his wake, coming to the conclusion that they’ll dry up by morning. He can’t be bothered with those, right now; it’s late, he’s tired and cold, and he can practically  _ hear  _ his bed calling to him. He wants nothing more than to flop down and close his eyes and just let the remnants of the storm lull him into a deep, deep slumber. 

Dolcetto pads into the backroom from the hallway, where two couches sat across from one another, and an old coffee table made its home between them. The room is dim, which is a blessing to his half-closed eyes. He’s glad that his boss had decided to light the room using various lamps and string lights instead of the headache-inducing fluorescent lights they used to have. Nostalgia floods his senses as he remembers the day they finally knocked those lights down. Greed had said that, since the building was under extreme renovation, that everyone was just allowed to go  _ ham. _ He promptly supplied everyone with large hammers and the destruction began, in the end, turning the previously prison-like storage room into a cozy place where the workers could hang out with one another other than their bedrooms, which were located upstairs. 

Dolcetto maybe makes it two steps up the flight of rickety wooden stairs that lead up to the workers’ rooms when Greed calls his name, his voice silky and deep as usual. The chimera halts where he stands, a shiver rocketing up and down his drenched body, though this time out of anxiety rather than how unbelievably cold he was. He turns slowly, taking tentative steps down the stairs until he is, once again, standing on the level floor. His gaze sweeps around the dark, grungy room until it falls on his boss, who is sitting on one of the old couches, legs spread and arms draped over the back of the seat. How had the chimera not noticed him before? Greed looks at Dol through half-lidded eyes, dark circular sunglasses resting on the tip of his shapely nose, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips, and slowly brings one arm up, extending a single finger and waving the fear-stricken bouncer over. Dolcetto immediately does as he’s told, unable to shake the feeling that Greed is getting his attention as a pet owner gets their dog’s attention. It’s a little humiliating, and he’s sure the thought is in the back of his boss’ head as well, though if it is, the homunculus chooses not to say anything about it. 

“Dol,” Greed sighs when the chimera is in range. “what the hell happened to you?” He sounds aloof, but there’s worry hidden somewhere in his tone. 

“Sorry, Boss…” Dolcetto looks down, face flushed marroon down to his neck. “...Got caught in the rain on th’ way home, and forgot to bring my umbrella. But--!” His head snaps up, and he dares to meet Greed’s wine colored eyes. “I did fill out that order you asked for! The new glasses’ll be here in about three days, and if that’s too long I’ll try and see if I can--” 

“I don’t care about the order, Dolcetto.” Greed cuts through the now wide-eyed man’s sentence. Silence hangs heavy in the air, and fear settles comfortably in the pit of Dolcetto’s gut. He knows Greed would never hurt him. Hell, the guy hadn’t even so much as  _ yelled  _ at the bouncer ever since he rescued him from Laboratory 5, but there was something in his tone that the chimera had never heard before. It sounded like kindness, but then again, it sounded like that in the scientists’ voices right before they ripped him up and sewed him back together again, this time with extract of mutt. Was Greed seriously that ticked off that Dolcetto had gotten a little damp? Or was that kindness real, and he was genuinely concerned? 

“You’re shiverin’ like a kid who just woke up from a nightmare. Christ, your teeth’re chatterin’,” Greed interrupts Dol’s train of thought and shifts over to the end of the couch, lazily removing the cigarette from his deliciously parted lips and snuffing it out on the carbon shield that had crept up the palm of his large hand. 

Wait. Deliciously parted lips? Is that really what had shot through Dol’s mind in the five seconds it took Greed to move? The shield melts from his hand and he pats the space right next to him-- _close_ next to him, mind you-- and Dolcetto really has no choice but to oblige his master’s wishes. He did have to be a good dog, after all.

The chimera sits next to his boss, his weight causing the plush-but-grossly-old cushions to sink below him, the couch seeming to swallow him whole upon contact. 

“What did you need?” His voice is cautious and slow, unsure of how he felt about the whole situation. For one, he was next to Greed, who smelled of cigarettes and rose perfume and conditioner, who had familiar eyes and a welcoming laugh, who had large hands that were easy and pleasant to hold. For another, however, he was next to  _ Greed.  _ His boss, his master, whatever you want to call him. This single man--homunculus--whatever-- had the ability to ruin Dolcetto’s entire life. He had rescued him from hell, but, if desired, he could put him right back. 

“Give me your hands, I can warm ‘em up for you. I know how your joints freeze up when you’re all cold and soggy, this has happened plenty of times for me ‘t know what to do. Can’t have an ineffective bouncer, now can I?

“I-- uh. Yeah, I suppose not,” Dolcetto nods sheepishly, extending both of his rather stubby hands. He’s never really liked them. They were thick and scarred, claws resting on the end of his fingertips that made him feel so much less than human. However, when Greed’s even larger, more monstrous hands cupped his and began to slowly massage the chimera’s joints and tendons, Dolcetto completely forgot about being self-conscious. Because this felt…  _ Nice.  _ It was strange but really, really good. His movements were slow and precise, rolling over the bouncer’s knuckles, applying pressure to all of the aching points that jabbed slow throbs of pain throughout Dol’s nerves. He felt his shoulders loosen up a little bit when his hands were flipped and the pads of Greed’s fingers pressed against the lines of his palm. Surprisingly, the homunculus’s hands were… Warm? Which wasn’t really what Dolcetto had expected. Not that he had ever really  _ thought  _ about holding his boss’ hands before. I mean, sure he did but--

Well, that was really it. He  _ did. _ More often than was appropriate. Dolcetto, though he knew he really wasn’t supposed to for legal reasons, had a huge crush on Greed and there wasn’t much he could do about it but sit in silence as the man himself massaged his aching bones.

“Your hair,” Greed mused, slicing through Dol’s thoughts once more. He brings a thick, gentle hand up to card long fingers through Dolcetto’s now drying hair. The product he used to slick it back had washed out in the rain and was now soft and fluffy as it drooped from its regular spiked up form, a few strands framing his face, the rest all shaggy and a little frizzed from the static in the air. “I’ve never seen it like this. You should wear it without the gel more often, it looks handsome on you.” 

And then Greed  _ smiles.  _ Like, a real life, genuine smile. His eyes have laughter in them and he has dimples, for christ’s sake, and wow this man sure is quite a sight. 

“You think so?” Dolcetto asks, heart fluttering a little bit in his chest despite his best efforts to ignore his feelings. 

“Yeah! Looks great. Accentuates yer uh…” Greed turns away, and although his eyes are not trained to see signs such as this, Dol is quite certain he’s a bit flushed, a bit pensive, a bit shy. “ …B--rown eyes.” A slight pause and he regains whatever confidence he lost, looking back up, aloof expression right back on his face. “But do whatever you want, I’m not the boss of you.” He ponders this statement, before chuckling. “Well, I  _ am  _ the boss of you, but not on how you present yourself, ya dig? Dress how you like, whatever makes you happy.” He smiles once more, even adding a little encouraging wink. 

Dolcetto isn’t entirely sure how to respond to this. Of course, he’s happy that Greed thinks his hair looks handsome, but at the same time, he’s a bit too happy and now his tongue is swollen and his face is flushed and oh my, his heart sure is racing. 

So he does what any sensible person would do and simply ignores how he feels, instead just falling silent as Greed continued to loosen up his hands. It’s working pretty well, actually, and he can feel the blood flowing through his fingers and warmth starting to seep back into his skin. In fact, his whole body is warming up, and it’s quite nice, definitely much better than running and straining himself while icy sheets of unforgiving rain pelted his trembling body. The backroom’s atmosphere is nice and quiet, and when Greed began to talk again, it was just a comfortable mumble. Dolcetto’s body is completely slack now, eyes droopy and head feeling incredibly heavy. He nods on occasion, trying desperately to pretend as though he’s truly listening, but it’s just so  _ nice  _ to be sitting here, getting a hand massage, being drenched in soft yellow lights and the warmth from the heater that always made the Nest smell a bit like fresh soil. 

The last thing he remembers is Greed asking him in that new fangled soft voice if Dolcetto is still awake or not. 

 

♡♡♡

 

Morning came, inevitably, and Dolcetto’s eyes fluttered open to a place that wasn’t his room. He sat bolt upright, which wasn’t really a good idea, for immediately, his head throbbed angrily and he was so dizzy he was sure he’d pass out. So, reluctantly, he lay back down. As his head returned to cushion it was resting on, his mind cleared and he put a few puzzle pieces together. Last night, he hadn’t made it back to his room, had he? He had fallen asleep on one of the couches (which probably explained the crick in his neck). He hoped he hadn’t put Greed through too much trouble, especially seeing as he was so  _ nice  _ the other day. It was strange, really, seeing him act like that, but very comforting all the same. 

Ah, well, he thought. Despite suddenly having buckets of water dumped on him and his joints freezing up uselessly, it had been an enjoyable night. He liked talking to Greed-- or, in this case, he liked letting Greed talk at him, seeing as he was a bit exhausted from trying to beat the storm. He’d have to work extra hard today to let his boss know just how appreciative he was. 

Dolcetto went to stand, groaning from how his head swam and his chest ached terribly. Except it wasn’t an emotional ache, no it was more like a sinus-y ache. He sniffled, a bit grossed out at the amount of fluid that was trying to escape through almost every hole in his face. The chimera looked like a complete mess, his cheeks red and sweaty, hair still unstyled and ungelled and uncombed and un-everything and bits of it sticking to his forehead. His eyes were baggy, too, baggier than usual, with even deeper and darker circles underneath. He felt cold and nasty and clammy and knew that today probably would end in him shivering underneath his bedsheets. But that was for later after he had finished working to repay Greed’s kindness.

Dolcetto went straight to work, coming into the main bar from the backroom he had slept in and washing a few piles of dirty dishes. The cold water felt awful on his hands, and he began to feel faint after a few minutes or so, but he pushed that feeling back and far away from him. He was too busy to feel sick, he thought, agitated at his own body. He managed to clean the last plate and put it tiredly on the drying rack, noting how  _ drained  _ he was even after such a mundane task. His eyes burned, so he closed them, leaning against the counter. Blind hands pawed for a rag to wipe the black marble surface down, eventually coming over one and tugging it lazily closer as he cleaned, though every motion was much more difficult than it should have been. However, he wasn’t able to reach even half of what was left of the countertop when Roa came in, all big and hulking and authoritative, towering over Dolcetto and staring down at him with icy eyes. Dolcetto nearly jumped out of his skin; he hadn’t heard or smelt his presence at all. 

“Roa, hello,” Dolcetto gulped, nervous, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Animal instinct, something like that. 

“Why are you working?” Roa’s voice was deep, deeper that Dol ever expected it to be. It almost sounded like the rumble of thunder.

“Boss was bein’ real nice to me last night, so I thought I’d repay him by doin’ what I could to tidy up around here,” 

“You look awful.” Wow. Way to be blunt, big guy. 

“Thanks, Ro, you’re handsome as ever.” Dolcetto deadpans, continuing on with the task at hand, moving the rag in great sweeping movements over the already reflective countertop. Roa didn’t reply, this time, which Dol was honestly a bit relieved at. He hated being interrogated by someone so…  _ honest.  _ Whenever the big cow chimera asked a question, it was extremely hard to lie to him. Impossible, even. 

With that in mind, it was almost to be expected when Roa drew closer and places his gargantuan palm gently on the side of Dol’s cheek, cupping it, almost. Instinctively, the bouncer leaned into the hand, the warmth very inviting against his shivering form. He sure was cold. 

“Fever,” Roa said, simple and plain and stern. 

“What?” 

“You have a fever, tough guy. You’re boiling over, and your eyes’re red and puffy. Not to mention your nose; that thing’s runnin’ like a faucet. You didn’t even smell me come in, which, in all honesty, is never a good sign.” 

“...Well, that’s unfortunate, I guess. Now could you move over? I’m trying to clean up this place before Greed comes in.” Dolcetto tried to shove the ginormous figure over but only succeeded in getting a headache so powerful that it made his head throb with intense flashes of pain. Oh, yikes. “Roa… move… yer makin’ my head hurt…” The bouncer struggled to move his heavyset friend and colleague aside, who simply continued to stand in silence, hands placed carefully on the sides of Dol’s arms so that he didn’t fall over. “I have to work! To repay Greed! He was really nice last night, and I wanna pay him back. C’mon, this is my job, just--” 

“Repay me? For what?” 

The voice was a sharp blade in comparison to Dolcetto’s thick and sloppy tone as he shoved against his taller and brawnier friend. He stopped trying to move Roa aside, standing up straight and turning slowly, instead. 

“Hey, Greed,” Roa’s smug grin could be heard in his deep bassline voice. Fuck. Dolcetto’s face was burning out of pure embarrassment, now, as he forced himself to make eye contact with the boss that he had been working oh so hard to pay back. 

“Dol, if you’re sick, you’re sick. Why do you feel the need to pay me back for last night? I can’t have a defective possession, right? So I had to help you. It was after working hours, anyway, so technically I was just bein’ a pal.” Strange. This  _ was  _ Greed the Avaricious, right? The guy who wanted everything? And yet he didn’t want Dolcetto to pay him back for a favor? 

“No, I’m alright. I need to--” Dolcetto couldn’t finish. 

“You don’t need to do anything,” Greed’s voice was a bit sterner. Like he was putting his foot down. But what was his foot coming down  _ on?  _ Certainly, he wasn’t about to give his subordinate a break? 

“Boss, listen, I--” 

“I won’t listen to a word you say. Roa’s a doctor, inn’e? Closest thing to one, at least. He knows what’s wrong with you and what’s best for you. You should listen to him.” 

“Or give him a raise,” Roa chimed in, mostly joking. 

Greed shot the 8-foot-tall bull chimera a look that said  _ I’m not making jokes,  _ which immediately shut the man up, though it didn’t wipe the grin off of his face. He was onto something and Dolcetto didn’t like that.

“I’m fine, though! I promise you, you don’t need to worry about me!” Dolcetto was getting more and more embarrassed as he spoke, absolutely ashamed that he, an adult, was being mother-henned by two other adults. “C’mon, I’ll be just fine. I just wanted to--” 

However, Dolcetto couldn’t finish that sentence, either, but not because Greed interrupted him again. No, this time, his own body cut him off, and he sneezed. A pause lingered in the air, in which Roa took the time to sigh, roll his eyes, and exit the scene. 

“Dust,” Dolcetto choked. 

“That sounded sick.” Greed deadpanned, arching one eyebrow, looking thoroughly unamused at his bouncer’s attempts to explain himself. Before any further argument could ensue, Dolcetto found himself being hefted up and slung over the homunculus’s shoulder haphazardly, finding that hanging upside down over the shoulder of your boss didn’t do much to soothe a headache. 

The chimera kept his eyes screwed shut, trying to steady himself as he was carried out of the kitchen. He heard the creak of the stairs, felt Greed shift as he adjusted Dolcetto on his shoulder. Before he knew it, he felt his back collide with something unbelievably comfortable and soft, and he opened his eyes to find that he was staring at the ceiling of Greed’s bedroom, lying on the four-poster bed with a black canopy and pure silk and cotton sheets. He looked up, seeing the man himself standing over him, arms crossed. 

“Comfy?” He asked. Though his voice was big and sharp, made to sound like he was trying to condescend to the sick chimera, his actual tone suggested otherwise, as it was laced with concern. Dol shifted, scooting about until his head sunk into the thick, plush pillow at the head of the mattress. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, already feeling his eyes droop. 

This bed  _ was  _ very comfortable, actually. Nice and cushy, he thought. It smelled good too. Like cigarettes, and that perfume (no, not cologne) that Greed always wore on his neck. There was even a recently blown out candle on the bedside table, filling the air with the pleasant smell of natural smoke and warmth. That was Greed’s scent. All cozy and smoky and softly sweet at the same time. A whole combination of smells that  _ should  _ be contrasting with one another, but, on his body, worked perfectly. Dolcetto let his foolish mind wonder whether or not Greed tasted like that as well. 

Then, he sat up.

“I couldn’t take your bed. Where would you sleep?” He asked, not quite looking his boss in the eye, instead focusing on the space between. Usually, when he did this, he’d only find a pair of stupid round sunglasses, but those were currently gone and right now he was just looking at the bridge of the man’s nose. 

“We have couches, you know,” Greed replied, uncharacteristically soft. 

“Yeah, but you own this place. You should be sleeping in, you know, a real bed?”

“And  _ you’re  _ sick. So you should actually be the one in a real bed. Trust me, it’ll make you feel better to have a good rest,” 

“But--”

“Trust me.” His voice left no room for argument. Dolcetto released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding and lowered himself back down, letting his entire body sink into the plush wonders of The Boss’s Bed. “You hungry?” Greed asked suddenly, forcing the question out as though he were embarrassed. His head was turned, and he wore an expression that Dolcetto couldn’t quite read on his face. 

“I mean, I guess, but I can just go down to the kitchen and make myself something,” the chimera’s voice came out gentler than expected, and he bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of how to deal with the tension in the room. 

“No, no. You stay put.” Once again, Greed’s voice was firm as he stepped out of the room, closing the door with a quiet click behind him. Dolcetto just sat, wide-eyed, on the plush king-sized mattress. He snuggled into the comforter, lifting his body enough to pull it out from under him, burrowing under it. It was warm and trapped heat wonderfully. He thought with a pang of bitterness that Greed could’ve bothered to give  _ all  _ of the chimeras good beds like this one… 

Oh well. He couldn’t blame the homunculus too much, he  _ was  _ the boss of this whole joint anyway. And he had done a great job at cleaning up the mess that the building was previously. He also fought tooth-and-nail (quite literally) to break into Lab 5 and rescue the chimeras from their dingy, dirty cells. A shiver crept up his spine as he recalled the place, lying his own blood on the cold, unforgiving, concrete floor, chain hooked to the floor and around a metal collar that clasped to his neck, like a dog. A  _ real  _ dog, not a human-hybrid. It certainly was hellish back there, taking every ounce of his strength just to survive a single night, forcing himself to eat food that left him sick just so he had the strength to get up in order to perform the tests those mad bastard scientists ran on him. Endurance, fighting, escaping, they had everything. Every bit of it was painful, often leaving the chimera stinking of gore and vomit, deep gashes and dark bruises and infections festering in his skin. Then, he’d be thrown back into that cell and chained up with the rest of his pals, who were equally as injured. 

Of course, that was only if he managed to succeed in doing his tasks correctly. If he failed, acted out,  _ anything,  _ the torture would begin. Waterboarding, sensory deprivation, being sent to solitary confinement for days on end, getting stuffed in the ‘Ice Box’ (unofficially named by the chimeras, it was a room frozen over with alchemy. Every few hours, the scientists would slink in and dump buckets of cold water onto the prisoners), there was no end to the torture methods. That place was hell on earth, and Dolcetto had gotten a nice big taste of it. 

Of course, that all changed when he woke up one night to the din of thousands of other, less fortunate chimeras, shrieking and howling up and down the hallways. Gunshots and yelling and the distinct smell of iron filled the air. Bido was the first to freak out, starting to rattle the cell bars, trying to squeeze through, calling for help despite knowing it was futile. Marta, Ulchi, and Roa joined in, bashing at the heavy steel, pulling and ripping at it because their lives  _ depended _ on escape. They hadn’t been tortured and silenced and shunned this long just to be murdered in cold blood by whatever had broken into the lab. 

Dolcetto didn’t fight like the rest when a set of wine eyes locked with the pathetic mess of chimeras and ordered them to leave the cell. Didn’t try to make a break for it when everyone had finally shuffled out. Didn’t even flinch when a set of strong, carbon covered claws gripped tight enough to draw blood to his arm and drag him along at sprinting pace. He just let it happen. He knew he’d probably die, he knew that this man was probably lying about wanting the chimeras to work for him. He expected to be tortured, maybe used for something else, something that made him sick, maybe beaten to a pulp, maybe just killed. Or perhaps he  _ would  _ work for the man, but more as a slave than employee. Not paid, hit when he did something wrong-- he was ready to accept his miserable life. Who knows, he might even get the chance to kill himself. 

That didn’t happen. None of what Dolcetto thought would befall him happened. 

 

Greed wasn’t sweet and didn’t have a cotton candy tongue that sugarcoated their situation. He made the chimeras work, but he worked, too. He wasn’t all kind and nice and sunshine and rainbows, he was electrical stormclouds and billowing winds and the smell of petrichor and the taste of a cigarette kiss. Rough around the edges, he was all shark grins and glimmering eyes and loud as thunder. But he was  _ good.  _ He cared, genuinely, something that Dolcetto was not used to. In fact, he was sure that’s how he fell in love with the beast of a man. 

Dol snuggled deeper into the comforters, thinking back to those many years ago when he let his heart get captured by the homunculus. It was late, he had just had one of the worst nightmares of his entire life, and he woke up  _ screaming. _ Genuine, scared shitless, petrified screams ripped through his lungs. He had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep any more sound coming out because by god he had made a mistake and was probably in huge trouble for being so loud. None of the chimeras came to check in on him; they had nightmares, too. They knew this was just a dream, nothing more. However, someone else shuffled down the hallway, someone else creaked his door open and popped a sleepy head in, hair not in their usual spikes and instead flopping lazily over the handsome jawline that was Greed’s face. 

Dol flinched on instinct, knowing that he was about to be hit, punished for his noise. He could practically  _ feel  _ the sting of a palm as the homunculus shuffled closer and extended a hand. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and braced himself for impact. 

But the slap never came. 

Only a gentle touch, tentative and cautious, brushing against his cheek. Greed’s hand was calloused and warm and strong and large, easily cupping Dol’s surprise stricken face and tilting it upwards. 

That was when he fell. Hard and fast, it was so unexpected and soft, and Dolcetto was scared at first. But he accepted that his heart belonged to a beast, and he also accepted that the feelings wouldn’t be returned. But it was nice, anyway, being in love and such. Mushy thoughts filled his head as he drifted off, now, and the ghost of Greed’s tender hand on his face made the nightmares much more bearable. 

And now, here he was, several years later, curled up warm and comfy in Greed’s bed, happier than he’d ever been in his entire life. He still had that icepick-in-the-chest feeling when he looked at Greed, but he could live with that. He was safe and treated well, paid for his services and being treated with basic human respect, something he never thought he’d have when he was back at the labs. 

“Okay, I’m not sure how this turned out, but I’m gonna force you to eat it just so you have  _ some  _ substance in you, alright?” Greed’s voice cut through Dol’s train of thought, causing it to crash and burn instantly as he carefully walked in, holding a steaming bowl in his hands. Did he…?

“Boss? You made soup for me?” Dolcetto sat up, surprise clearly written all over his face. 

“The only thing I  _ can  _ make. Bido taught me a while back how to make tomato soup, and Marta showed me what herbs to use to help you cure your cold faster today,” Greed chuckled, almost bashfully. 

“You didn’t have to, you know. I would’ve been just fine,”

“I know, but I figured you’ll feel better with some substance in you, you know? You’re runnin’ on an empty stomach. So eat it, or I’ll force feed you.” Greed’s tone was joking, but… Not at all joking. 

“Fine, fine, pass it over,” Dolcetto laughed, shaking his head and extending his arms, taking the bowl into his hands. There was already a spoon dipped into the liquid, which was a delightful creamy orange. It smelled like basil and thyme and rosemary and looked thick and rich and warm. He sighed into the bowl, loving the feeling of steam curling up onto his face in comfortable whisps. He felt something weigh down the end of the mattress, and looked up, blinking in surprise at Greed who had sat down at the foot of the bed, gazing at him with glimmering and expectant eyes. Was he waiting on Dol’s reaction to the taste of the soup? 

Teeth and carbon and immortality aside… Greed could be pretty cute without meaning to.

Dolcetto dipped the spoon into the piping hot soup, bringing it to his lips, surprised with the taste. It was…

Good. Really, really good. 

The consistency was rich, creamy, smooth. The tomato wasn’t too prominent, but neither were the spices; they balanced each other out perfectly. The rosemary was nice on his tongue, and the heat of the soup cleared his throat quite nicely and left him with a warm feeling in his chest and stomach.

“So? Is it alright?” Greed’s expectant voice asked, face shining like a child. Dolcetto nodded. 

“Yeah, this is incredible, actually. I had no idea you could cook, Boss,”

“You don’t have to call me that,”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. Nobody here does, they just. Keep insisting. But I’m really more comfortable with just Greed-- makes it a bit more casual, y’know? I love having possessions, but it gets a little weird when I can’t talk to my possessions normally.” Greed looked almost taken aback by himself, realizing that he had said a little too much, but he didn’t shy away from it or try to deny it. He just let it slide. 

“...Well, in any case,  _ Greed,  _ the soup is awesome,” Dolcetto smiled into the bowl, taking another bite. 

“Good, I’m uh. I’m happy you like it,” this time, Greed  _ did  _ sound shy. Bashful, even. “I just wanna make sure you’re alright, y’know? Can’t have one of my best possessions gettin’ hurt,” 

“Well, it’s only a cold,” Dolcetto pointed out between sips. “It’ll go away soon anyway. Don’t get me wrong, B0s-- uh, Greed, I mean, I’m grateful for ‘yer help but you shouldn’t care about me that much.” 

“What’re you talking about?” The homunculus looked almost offended. 

“I mean, like, I’m glad you care, but you really don’t need to!” Dolcetto chuckled nervously, afraid that he may have upset Greed. 

“That’s where I stop you,” the quietness in the homunculus’s voice stopped Dol right in his tracks, and he looked up, eyes wide. Was he about to get yelled at? “Dolcetto, listen carefully because I’m gonna try and avoid sayin’ anything like this ever again because it’s. Well. Embarrassing. And you better not tell a soul about this. But I.. Do… Care about you, surprising as it may sound.”

Oh. That was unexpected. 

“I know I’m pretty greedy-- can you blame me?-- and I can be pretty loudmouthed and rude and I cuss a lot and it really seems like I think you and the rest of the chimeras are expendable. But you aren’t. As a matter of fact, you’re really special to me, all of you. I busted you out of there because I know what it’s like to be treated badly like that. I know what it’s like to be confined to one person in charge who pulls all of the strings. I know what it’s like to be the odd one out, and I know that it  _ sucks.  _ A lot. You an’ the rest of the chimeras have been put through the worst of it, really, and I dunno. I just wanted to give you a place to stay, a home. ‘Specially you, Dol; I saw you first, saw how dead your eyes looked, saw how you had just given up. And I wanted to fix you right up then and there.” He took a breath, fiddling with the silk of his bedsheets, looking away. Dolcetto watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard before continuing. “You all just mean a lot to me, a lot more than you’ll ever know. And I doubt I’m ever gonna say this again, because I’m better at actions than words, but I  _ do  _ l--” the letter hung on his tongue for a moment, as though it were physically difficult to say the forbidden l-word that was very seldom used in the Devil’s Nest, if at all. Greed’s voice went quiet and careful and softer than anything Dolcetto has ever heard in his entire life. 

 

“I love you. All of you.”

 

Dolcetto swallowed, putting the soup aside to reach forward, trying to comfort his boss who looked as though he were on the verge of tears. 

“And I just wanna protect you, is all,” he said quickly, as though trying to erase his previous statement. He brushed Dolcetto’s reaching hands aside and pushed him back, rolling his eyes and returning to his smug stature. “Hey, cool it with the sappy gestures, Dol, I’m fine.” The homunculus stood, once again towering over the chimera, whose eyes were wide. 

“Boss- Greed-- listen, we all love you t--” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. And I’m real grateful for that. Feels nice. I think if I had a heart instead of a philosopher’s stone, it’d be all fluttery, but I don’t,” he rolled his eyes, though it wasn’t in exasperation. More like affection. “eat the soup and get some rest, puppy. Hope you feel better by the time tomorrow rolls around.” 

With that, Greed reached over and ruffled the hair on Dolcetto’s head, his hand firm and heavy and warm, and left the dog chimera alone without another word. 

Dolcetto sat there, on Greed’s bed, still a little shellshocked by the sweetness of what had just happened. He let out a shuttering breath, absentmindedly bringing his hand to the front of his gi and squeezing the fabric over his chest. His heart was abuzz, crying out, wanting to experience that a billion times over. It ached and it whined and it leaped up and down in his ribcage, chattering about how much it longed for the homunculus’s touch, about how much it just  _ wanted.  _ Love is such a selfish thing. The heart is far too needy. 

Dolcetto finished the soup although it had grown a little cold and rolled over on the plush blankets and pillows, cozy and comfortable. Despite the good feeling in his chest, his head still felt like it was about to split in two. He needed to rest for now, but he found it a little difficult when he kept replaying what had just happened over and over, and he could only hope those thoughts seeped themselves into his dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway im making it my personal goal to get more dol/greed stuff out there since i love the rarepair and honestly who Wouldn't fall in love with their bodyguard like. fuck


End file.
